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Sleep Forgets the Sawmill

from The Living Lions by Saint Deadmule

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lyrics

No one sings the sawmill fast asleep,
cause it's just a groaning catacomb of sad machinery.
But there ain't no way to put to rest the silver saws and broken press—
sleep forgets the sawmill anyway.

Sawmills saw together out of tune, sawing out a blanket made for you.
Motors whine a hymn undying, hammers falling, shrapnel flying,
sleep was manufactured here for you.

No one asks the sawmill when it's tired,
cause it's just a heap of flaking rust and fraying wires.
But it don't mind, it's not the kind to bellyache.
Sleep forgets the sawmill anyway.

(Deep within a dream I saw a wagon winding westward,
worried horses blindly weaving through the foothills of the damned:
perilous, drunk and savage from the voyages beyond,
they champ the sands at the bottoms of canyons
burning red against the sun.)

Sawmills saw together out of tune, sawing out a blanket made for you.
Motors whine a hymn undying, hammers falling, shrapnel flying,
sleep was manufactured here for you.

credits

from The Living Lions, released January 1, 2019

license

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about

Saint Deadmule Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Mostly an illustrator, but I make music sometimes. Lots more to come!

twitter.com/saintdeadmule

www.redbuffalo.org

instagram.com/redbuffaloill

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